


Fuck supernatural

by Herlilacskies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying Dean Winchester, M/M, SO, Sad Dean Winchester, as in Dean actually cries 'cause his boyfriend just confessed his undying love for him, then died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herlilacskies/pseuds/Herlilacskies
Summary: I don't actually know if Cas is like...an angel(?) But whatever.Also, there are like five lines of sex at the end. And a cat turns into a spray of blood 'cause Chuck's a dick.Warning:Mostly a rant below.In addition, if God brought Lucifer back, why didn't Jack bring back Cas? 'Cause fuck that.Furthermore, when Chuck was breaking bones and dislocating shoulders, it seemed a bit cartoonish. Just saying.No, but seriously, if they don't bring Cas back I'm going to cry. Again.And why was the last episode literally the finale? I've been confused for days.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 20





	Fuck supernatural

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know if Cas is like...an angel(?) But whatever.  
> Also, there are like five lines of sex at the end. And a cat turns into a spray of blood 'cause Chuck's a dick.  
>  **Warning:** Mostly a rant below.  
> In addition, if God brought Lucifer back, why didn't Jack bring back Cas? 'Cause fuck that.  
> Furthermore, when Chuck was breaking bones and dislocating shoulders, it seemed a bit cartoonish. Just saying.  
> No, but seriously, if they don't bring Cas back I'm going to cry. Again.  
> And why was the last episode literally the finale? I've been confused for days.

Dean stared at the space Cas had just been. He’d  _ just _ been there. Dean could have reached out, lunged for him. Could have held on. Could have—He could have said it back. He could have just fucking said it back. There was time, seconds. Even on the floor, he could have said it.

He slumped back against the wall, pulling his legs into his chest. Cas didn’t know—He would never know. A strangled sob escaped him, eyes, chest—everything  _ hurt _ . Tears streamed down his face, body shaking with every cry. Cas said he loved him, and was truly happy, and he didn’t  _ know _ .

The words may have caught in Dean’s throat, but they were true. They were right there.  _ Cas _ was  _ right there _ .

Dean buried his face in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

He didn’t know why or even how, but he found himself slumped against the two steps that lead to the table sometime later, bottles around him, and a half-empty bottle of scotch in his hands. He took a long drag from the bottle, wanting to forget himself entirely. He wanted to forget the world, Chuck—Cas.

He hurled the bottle, and it shattered across the table ahead of him. Then he curled into himself, sobs already wracking his frame because Cas wasn’t there and Cas would never know that Dean did love him. That he’d loved him for so long.

  
  


Someone was calling his name, and for a moment, just a millisecond, Dean had hope. It was squashed when he sat up and found Sam hovering over him. He squinted up at him, and felt like crying, but he wouldn’t.

“What,” he grouched, swallowing down the pain. He got up, grabbing the bottle of ichor he’d used as a pillow. He took another long drink, but it tasted like ash down his throat. Every bottle he’d drank tasted of nothing. “What is it?”

“Are you OK? What happened, Dean? Where’s Cas?”

He looked away and took another drink, longer. He swallowed, trying to clear the pain from his voice because it still hurt. His eyes burned, but he couldn’t cry. He rubbed roughly at his eyes, pretending it was from the alcohol-induced sleep.

“He’s gone,” Dean said, words hard but not. He hadn’t actually admitted it aloud. “Death’s gone.” He shrugged, taking another pull from the bottle hopelessly.

“Wha—Dean, what happened? Everyone’s gone. We think death killed everyone on Earth.”

Dean laughed lowly because— “It wasn’t death,” he sneered. “It was god.” He shook his head, taking another drink. It was always god.

“Dean, what happened?” 

He dragged his eyes back over to his brother’s.  _ Sam _ , always a believer, in all things. SO optimistic. Dean’s mouth twisted, but he quickly hid it behind the lip of the bottle. “Cas summoned the empty.”

Jack moved forward, drawing Dean’s gaze away from his brother’s grave face. The spot between his eyebrows crinkled like they always did, and Dean wanted to cry again because Cas had been like a father to Jack. “That...can’t be. He said the empty would only take him when he was truly happy.”

Dean stared at him. He took another long drag from the bottle, downing it. Then he left the room.

Sam called after him, but Dean ignored him, swiping a half-empty bottle from the end of the table. He stumbled down halls until he found his room. He locked himself inside, then fell onto the bed. He didn’t bother kicking off his shoes.

There was no point.

He downed the rest of the alcohol and hoped it’d put him out of his misery, or at least let him forget the world for a moment. Let him not feel so devastated. He fell asleep replaying the other night over and over, and dreamt of being able to tell Cas he loved him.

There had been so many times he could have told him. There’d been so many years Dean could have just said it.

He woke to pounding on his door.

“Dean, we have to figure this out! We can’t just give up! We don’t give up, Dean! That’s not what we do.”

Dean had given up the moment the empty consumed Cas.

He buried his face in his pillow, trying to block out Sam.

“Come on, Dean! You can’t leave me alone at the end of the world!”

What was the point of fighting when there was no one to fight for? Dean surely wouldn’t fight for himself, he’d be glad if Chuck decided to end him, but he knew he wouldn’t. Chuck wanted them to suffer—he wanted Dean to suffer.

Dean didn’t care anymore.

“Dean!” his brother continued. “Dean, Cas wouldn’t want this, you know that! He’d fight—”

And that had Dean up, ready to strangle his little brother because he didn’t know. He didn’t understand. Sam had had Eileen, she knew, Cas would never know how Dean felt. Sam had her fucking car and  _ things _ , a picture. Dean—Dean had nothing but regretful memories. He ripped the door open, ready to do something horrible, but then Cas’ words from the night before permeated his mind.

_ You changed me, Dean. _

He’d made Castiel care about humanity. He’d said Dean was—was full of love. He’d—He’d said he loved Dean because—

“OK,” he croaked. “OK, just stop with the door, man.” He shouldered past Sam, and headed to the kitchen. His mind had gone on autopilot so he was close to tears when he arrived, and quickly wiped away the pain.

Dean couldn’t be this broken. He had to get everyone back, then he could return to his room, and wait for death. His breathing had picked up when he grabbed the eggs, and he stared at them when they slipped out of his shaky hands. His eyes stung, and he couldn’t breathe, and Sam was right there.

“Oh, man, Dean, what the hell,” he said, coming closer.

Dean walked away, shaking, unsteady as he hurried back to his room. His throat was raw, as if he’d been screaming for years. His eyes bulged as he slid down his bedroom door, just barely managing to lock it. He hid his face in his hands, crying because he couldn’t breathe and everything hurt. He dug a hand into his chest, wishing everything would just stop.

“Hiya, Dean.”

Dean wouldn't look up. He couldn’t. He told himself not to, but— “Please,” he begged. “Please, Chuck, I—I give up. Just bring Cas back.” He couldn’t bear to look at the man, being, whatever he was.

Chuck sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, and Dean somehow broke even more. “Sorry, no can do. It’s too good, Dean. You have to live the rest of your days knowing that Castiel  _ loved you _ . And you did nothing but watch the empty take him.”

“Shut up!” Dean screamed. He buried his face in his arms. “Shut up, shut up,” he said, more to his mind than anyone else.

There was nothing more after that, though Sam did come pounding on the door again. The wood rattled against him, but he’d never knock it down, and Dean would come out eventually. He’d have to, if only for Cas.

  
  


They headed out almost a week later, Dean didn’t know why. He hadn’t spoken much, and Sam had mostly resigned himself to the fact that Dean wouldn’t carry a conversation. Jack hadn’t said much either, but Dean understood how he was feeling, even if he wasn’t entirely human. Dean had lost his dad too, and Jack’s father was so much better than Dean’s.

“Jack,” he said, grabbing him by the shoulder at the entrance to the garage, “how ‘bout you drive.”

“I’m not sure—”

Dean waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, there’s no one else here.” He smiled, and for the first time in days, it was only half a grimace. He patted him on the shoulder a few times, and felt such shame for the way he’d treated him the last few weeks.

Cas must have been so disappointed in him.

He’d make it up to Jack—to both of them.

Dean cupped the back of the boy’s head, ruffling his hair. “Come on, don’t want Sam to think we’re stalling. He took the few steps down, his bag feeling like it was filled to the brim with bricks.

“Dean,” Jack called.

He turned. “Yeah, kid?”

“Thank you.” He smiled, a small and sad thing, but it was an actual smile.

Dean attempted a smile, but it was the briefest of things. There and gone in an instant, but Jack had caught it, his own lips stretching as he walked down after him.

Dean had no idea what driving around an empty planet would do, but only a few hours into their drive, Jack stopped the car in the middle of the road. Dean let it slide because no one was there to rear-end them or ticket them.

“What is it?” he asked, slumped against the passenger-side door.

“I...hear something.” His eyebrows came up and his skin crinkled. Dean wondered if he’d ever not be saddened by the action, ever not be reminded of what they’d lost. Maybe one day when he wasn’t hurt by a single thought of Cas.

“I thought you had no powers.”

“Me too,” he said, blinking at the road ahead, before turning back to Dean. “I don’t know, but there’s this...presence. I can feel it.”

“Do you think you could find whatever it is?”

Jack swallowed, then he nodded. “I think so.”

“Then, drive,” Dean said. Then he settled more heavily against the door, another long sleep. It was all he could do to stave off the uncontrollable sobbing. All he could do to not be in constant, unimaginable pain.

At least every other time someone was taken from him, they’d known he loved them. Cas—

He fell asleep to the thought of Cas’ electric blue eyes, tear-brimmed and so full of love it hurt.

They stopped sometime later, the sky black, a rough shake to his shoulder. He would have grumbled insults but everything seemed a little pointless now. Cas loved him, and left him.

He got out with a heavy sigh.

“A church,” he said. He laughed humorlessly. “A church,” he said again, walking in.

“Wait, Dean, we don’t know what’s in there.”

Dean barely glanced at him. “I have my gun, and my an—” He looked away, feet coming to an abrupt stop. “My angel blade.” He started walking again, slowly this time, taking careful breaths so he didn’t completely fall apart in front of whatever was inside the building.

The inside was just like most churches, expansive and empty, but Dean looked still. Down the rows, up above, and found nothing. “Looks like nobody’s home,” he said, wanting to go back to the bunker and give up for a second and final time. Cas would understand.

“Dean, wait,” Sam said.

Dean glanced at him, but his eyes were on the entrance. He turned and found Michael standing there. Dean really didn’t want to touch his angel blade. “Daddy didn’t smite you?”

Michael shook his head. “No, I’ve made sure to not use my powers since I escaped hell.”

“Adam?”

“Gone.”

Dean shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. “What do you want, Michael?”

“To help—What can I do?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” 

Dean walked out. Sam could deal with it—he was the one who didn’t want to give up. And why couldn’t he? Eileen was gone. The world was gone, God was a cruel, egotistical maniac, so why did he think there was hope. 

He waited in the impala, and would have argued about Michael riding with Sam in Eileen’s car, but he just didn’t care. He was only there until they failed for the last time, and Chuck decided he was tired of their cruel little game.

They had to stop at a gas station, and Dean got out if only to stretch his feet while he filled the tank. He briefly wondered if the only reason he’d moved from the car was because Chuck had made him. Jack could have handled the gas fine.

“Dean,” Jack called, coming closer with something in his arms, “look! It’s a cat.”

Dean turned and let the barest of smiles stretch his lips at the excitement in Jack’s face, but it quickly vanished because that wasn’t a coincidence. “Jack, put the cat down.”

The eyebrows again, and Dean hated himself, Chuck—He hated Castiel for leaving him. But that was a lie. That was such a terrible lie to tell. “But, Dean—”

“I’m sorry, Jack, but we can’t have pets in Baby.” He took the cat from Jack, for a moment not bombarded by the pain of losing Cas but of being an asshole. “Go get snacks or something.” He watched Jack disappear amongst rows of food, then he returned to the gas. He pulled it from the impala and slammed the cover.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam gave him a pissy look. “It’s just a kitten.”

And wasn’t that sad. He looked down at it, warm and soft in his arms— _ Like Cas could have been if you’d saved him _ , his mind supplied. “Yeah, at the end of the world, Sam. A cat.” Then he walked off and around the small gas station. He had to get rid of the cat before Chuck could do something horrible in front of Jack.

He made it maybe a foot past the back of the building when the weight against his chest vanished, a sea of red taking its place. It soaked into his shirt and splattered against the skin of his throat and jaw.

He stumbled to a stop, staring at his red hands. They were shaking. He looked up, sensing someone’s stare.

Chuck stood at the line of trees, smiling.

“Fuck you, Chuck. Just—” He looked away, then turned around, going back the way he came. He ignored Sam and his gasp of horror.

“Dean, what—what did you do?”

Dean couldn’t actually deal with his brother thinking he just killed a fucking cat. Why would he ever think Dean could kill a helpless kitten. Sure, he’d done terrible things, but a cat—You don’t fuck with cats.

Cas liked cats. Cas liked bees. He liked so many things. Dean's hands began to shake again as he pulled his keys out. He barely managed to open the trunk.

He took everything above the waist off, and threw it to the ground. He ripped open his bag and grabbed a shirt. It was an old AC/DC shirt. One of the shirts he’d let Cas borrow when he was human, before he’d thrown the man out into the streets.

It was so long ago.

He shook his head, clutching the shirt. Then he recalled Chuck’s cocky smile from before. _ Of course _ . He shook his head and pulled the shirt on. Fuck Chuck and his fucking manipulation.

He slammed the trunk shut, and made his way over to the passenger side. He could feel Sam’s stare from across the lot as he took a seat, fingers digging into his arms where he folded them over his chest. His keys dug into the palm of his other hand.

Jack got in a few moments later, arms piled high with snacks and candy. “I found mini apple pies,” he said, offering one to Dean.

Dean took it, though he wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been for days. The pie would be the first thing he ate in a while. He would have turned down the offer, but Jack looked too at ease to say no to. He pulled his lips up in what he hoped was a sufficient smile, and handed Jack the keys.

Jack took them, but looked between where Sam was scrutinizing the impala and Dean. “Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing, Jack. Start driving.”

“But we have to wait for Michael and Sam,” Jack said, eyebrows coming together.

Dean sighed, opening up the baby pie and biting into it. “Sure.”

Michael came back from the store and they left back to the bunker. It took half a day, but Dean managed to sleep for most of it, soft lips playing on the inside of his eyelids. Though he had to have Jack pull over so he could empty his stomach at one point. He hoped it wasn’t because of the pie.

“Here it is.” Sam dropped the book down on the table.

Michael picked it up. “God’s book,” he said. His eyes glowed that blinding white-blue color, but it quickly vanished. He sat the book down. “I’m sorry. I cannot open it.”

Dean left and headed back to his room, but his phone rang.

_ Cas _

He threw the device down the hall, and watched it shatter against a wall. There were tears in his eyes, had been since he’d seen the letters lighting up his phone. He hated God. He hated Chuck. He hated a world where Cas wasn’t there.

He stormed into his room, shaking.

Cas had been wrong. Dean wasn’t caring or selfless, and all his love had ever gotten anyone was dead. Knowing Dean was what got him killed.

He made it to the foot of his bed, but collapsed, falling to his knees. Hands fisted into the sheets, and he buried his face into the fabric. He screamed and yelled. It still hurt so badly. How did he still have tears? Why had Cas done that? Why—There could have been another way. Any other way.

Dean—He could have done  _ something _ .

There was pounding again, but he ignored it. Hands closing over his ears while he tried to quiet his sobbing so Sam didn’t hear.

He couldn’t hear—couldn’t know.

  
  


Dean stumbled his way through the halls in his robe until he found the threshold of the kitchen and table. He paused, blinking at where Michael stood with a blade shoved into Lucifer. Then he grabbed an errant bottle of  _ something _ off from the table and turned back around.

He was so not dealing with the end of the world right then.

When Dean returned to the sanctity of his room, Jack was there, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Jack, Kid, what is it?”

“I miss him too.” That pensive look came over his face. “Cas, I mean.”

Dean took in a heavy breath, and sat the bottle on his dresser before taking a seat beside the kid. “Yeah, Jack, I know.” He patted his leg because that’s all he could really offer him. “He…”

“He was my father,” Jack said quietly. “Not...biologically, but—”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I know. He was the best.” His face prickled with emotion. He sniffed and cleared his throat. “Did you—You knew?”

“About the deal. I’m sorry, he told me not to tell you.”

Dean nodded because, of course, he did. But he hadn’t meant that, and couldn’t get himself to voice his actual question. “It’s OK.” He stared at the door, tears in his eyes. The words continued to play over and over in his head, a torturous cycle.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked rapidly, looking to the sighed and sniffling. “Yeah,” he croaked.

“Well, you know how I found Michael?”

Dean wiped the last of his tears away and turned back to Jack. “Yeah.”

“I think I might have my powers back or something. Back in that silo place, I took the energy from a plant. And then at the gas station, the grass died, but I thought it was because I was sad.” Dean’s chest stung at the comment. “Then when Michael and Lucifer were fighting, and when he killed Lucifer, I felt the power...I don’t know. But...I...I can feel it in me.”

“You felt what, Lucifer’s power?”

Jack nodded. “I think.”

Shit.

  
  


Sam mostly came up with the plan, and Dean was along for the ride when they told Michael where they were going. They didn’t bring much, just a bag with everything they needed for a fake ritual, Jack would be putting on some type of illusion.

They passed so many trees on the way there—when Dean had actually woken up—and he wondered if he actually wanted to survive this trip. Sure, he hoped Jack and Sam would make it, maybe even defeat  _ God _ , but himself? Dean wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do if he survived.

He felt like going back to sleep, but then the car was stopping and Jack was telling him they were there. They’d arrived, and their demise was imminent, Dean supposed. Chuck could have probably killed them right then, he probably knew exactly what they were doing, every step they took.

Sam spoke Latin, nothing happened, then three glowing blue beams shot up into the sky. For a moment, Dean thought some being  _ would  _ rise up from the lake or crawl out from the forest, asking who they wanted killed. Then Chuck appeared, grinning like he’d planned the entire thing.

He may have.

Right then, they could have been doing exactly what Chuck wanted them to do.

Team Free Will seemed pretty fucking stupid with God actually existing. He wondered if all authors were arrogant enough to write themselves into their stories. Though he figured it wouldn’t really have been problematic for people to do it, egotistical, certainly, but it wouldn’t have engendered world-ending consequences.

“Father.”

Chuck’s smile dropped when he looked at Michael. “Son.”

“I brought them to you,” he said, sounding like Dean had, once upon a time. At least, his father hadn’t let him rot in hell. Well. The man had been dead so who knew if he would have tried to get him out. Sam hadn’t.

“A  _ bit _ too late,” Chuck said, raising his hand.

“Father, wait—”

And just like that, Michael was gone with a snap of Chuck’s fingers. Dean was glad there was less blood this time.

Chuck’s smile stretched into a smarmy grin as he came closer. “Game over, boys.”

Jack lifted a hand to hit him, but Chuck merely brushed him aside. Dean looked at Jack over Chuck’s shoulder and the kid shook his head, telling them killing Michael hadn’t been enough power. Dean really hoped the guy just snapped them dead like he had Michael. He’d even take going out the cat way. It seemed fast enough.

Chuck’s hand rose and hope rose in Dean, thinking,  _ finally _ . But then Chuck shook his head, coming closer. “Why not?”

Sam stepped up first but only got punched in the face. It sent him to the ground. Dean steeled himself and threw a punch, but it did nothing, and he was immediately brought to his knees. Sam was up again, but quickly brought down with a blow to the groin. Dean would have found it funny if Chuck wasn’t dislocating his shoulder.

He let out a strangled shout that was quickly cut off by a fist to his jaw. He fell back, Sam still rolling around on the ground. Dean crawled over and dragged him up. Then he threw the taller man at Chuck. He merely pushed him back down with a wave of his hand.

Dean grabbed him, then Chuck punched him in the stomach and pushed him back down to the ground.

They got up again, approaching him together.

“Come on, guys. Game over.”

He kicked Dean back to the floor, kicked Sam’s long leg, grabbed his arm and snapped it like a twig. He screamed, but Dean grabbed him and pulled him up by his unbroken arm. He looked over Chuck’s shoulder and took in a relieved breath when Jack nodded, coming up behind Chuck.

He looked back at Chuck.

“Just give up. You lost.”

Dean smiled smugly.

“What—Wha—There’s someone behind me, isn’t there?” He turned.

Jack grabbed his face, eyes glowing as he presumably took away everything that made Chuck God. He released Chuck, and he dropped to the ground.

“Is that it?” Dean asked, no longer in pain. Physical, that is.

Jack nodded. “He's powerless.”

“And Amara?”

Jack smiled. “We’re in harmony.”

“So you’re...the new God?” Sam asked.

The space between his eyebrows crinkled, but he smiled amenably with a small nod. “I’m...in everything. I am...everywhere.”

“So you can—”

“Jack,” Dean cut in, heart in his throat. “Jack, Cas.”

Jack’s smile widened, and he nodded. He closed his eyes for a second, maybe two, Dean couldn’t say. Then Cas was standing there, right next to him, blinking at them with those electric blue eyes, his dark hair, his stupid fucking trench coat.

Sam reached out first, pulling him into a hug, and Dean couldn’t even be mad, too relieved that Cas was  _ alive _ . He was  _ right there _ . Cas’ eyes immediately found Dean’s when Sam let him go. He averted his gaze, though, and Dean didn’t know what that meant. It had him rethinking everything Cas had said.

“What happened?” the angel asked, voice as croaky as ever.

“You can’t be serious,” Chuck said, getting up from behind them. He went to hit Dean, but his fist couldn’t get within a foot of the man. “This—This can’t be happening.”

Dean smiled cruelly. “Now  _ you  _ get to live the rest of  _ your  _ days, period. And you can do  _ nothing _ about it.”

He turned away. “We should go.” Then he stormed up the path to where the impala sat.

He took the passenger seat again, mostly out of autopilot, and watched the others make their way up. He was lying, he only had eyes for Cas. All he wanted to do was hug him and tell him he loved him, maybe even kiss Cas if that was something the man wanted to do. But the words caught in his throat, and Cas looked anywhere, far from encouraging.

Sam and Jack paused, but Cas continued. He slid into the backseat.

“Dean.”

“Ca—s.” He hated the way his voice broke. He stared at a spot on the dashboard, and took in a deep breath. “I—”

The door opened, and Jack got in.

Dean shifted, and moved his gaze to the passenger window.

“Sam and Eileen are heading back to her place.”

Dean nodded. He wasn’t picking his brother up from his booty call. He had to find some way to figure out if Cas actually loved him, like the way Dean loved him. He glanced over his shoulder and found Cas’ eyes on him. They both stuttered away from the other.

“Did I miss something?” Jack asked.

Sam and Eileen drove off behind them.

Cas cleared his throat. “I think Dean—”

“Just drive, Jack.” 

“OK.” Then they too were leaving.

Dean would have called bullshit on Jack “missing” something when he was literally God, but he just wanted to get home so he could corner the angel and very awkwardly ask him if he loved, loved him.

“Dean,” Cas started.

“No, Cas, your son is right there—I cannot fucking deal with this.” His eyes stung and he roughly rubbed at them. “You fucking died, Cas.  _ Again _ . I—I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I had—”

“Yeah, you fucking had to.” He couldn’t even look at Cas because he knew he’d start fucking sobbing and wouldn’t stop. He shook his head, sniffling. “How—How could you do that, Cas?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jack,” Dean said, voice unsteady, “think you can blink us back to the bunker?”

Within one blink and the next, Dean was standing by the table. Cas was across from him. He hadn’t meant just them, but it was what he’d wanted. At least, this time, Cas wasn’t avoiding his eyes.

“You said,” Dean started. “What you said—”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said.

“For saying it,” Dean said, heart in his throat.

Castiel nodded, and Dean’s face prickled with heat, his stomach twisting. “I’m sorry, but I needed to summon the empty to save you.” His face hardened almost imperceptibly. “But I’m not sorry for loving you. You’re...everything, Dean Winchester.”

“So you do love me, love me?” he asked, tears in his eyes.

Castiel nodded. “Of course, Dean. I told you I did.”

“You love me the way I love you?” he countered again, voice wet and broken.

Castiel tilted his head. “Dean,” he said, “I love you the way your mother loved your father.” He came closer, just a few steps, cautious.

Dean smiled, tears streaming down his face. 

“Dean, why are you crying? Did I say something to upset you?”

Dean shook his head, wiping away his tears. “They’re—They’re happy tears, Cas, because—because I love you too—And I never thought you’d know how much.” He pulled Cas into his chest, embrace bruising. “Don’t leave me again, Cas. It hurts too much.”

Cas hugged back just as fiercely. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Say it again,” he whispered against Cas’ shoulder.

Cas’ lips brushed the shell of Dean’s ear when he spoke, and it sent a shudder down his spine. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean pulled back, just enough to look into the other man’s eyes. “Cas,” he said, “I—I really wanna kiss you.”

His lips stretched into a blinding smile, and he closed his eyes. A thrill went through Dean at the prospect of kissing the angel. Then he did it, just a soft press of lips, then again, and again, until Cas’ tongue swiped across Dean’s lips. He opened up immediately, hand cupping the other’s jaw so he could tilt Cas’ face just so.

Cas was perched on the edge of the table, trench coat on the floor, tie loose as they grinded against each other. Then Sam and Jack walked in.

“Hey, guys, we’re home!”

Dean froze, mouth falling from Cas’ throat. He straightened and bit back a moan as his bulge brushed against Castiel. Cas whimpered, fingers digging into Dean’s lower back where one hand still held on, his other gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.

“You guys?” Sam said, coming closer. “Did something happen?”

“Oh,” Jack said quietly, his face heating. “Sam,” he said, grabbing the taller man by his arm, “I think we left something in the car.”

“Jack, we got everything…”

They disappeared around the hall, and Dean took a shaky breath. He didn’t think he'd ever been so hard in his life.

Cas smothered a laugh against Dean’s shoulder. “Dean,” he said, voice literal gravel, “I’d like to...make love to you.” He looked up at the end, eyes glittering.

Dean sucked in a breath after a moment, blinking rapidly. He nodded, mind momentarily fractured. “Yuh,” he said intelligibly.

He picked the man up, gripping his thighs shamelessly and carried him down the hall and into his room.

“Wait,” he said, hands pausing on the zipper, “I’m lactose intolerant now, aren’t I?”

“Dean?” Cas said, one elbow propping him up, while the other carded through Dean’s hair. Cas’ cheeks were bright red, lips wet, and pupils blown.

“Yeah,” he said, breathless for what may have been the millionth time.

“Stop...talking.”

Dean nodded, and pulled down Cas’ zipper. He pulled the pants and boxers off with a few tugs. “Cas,” he said, licking a line up his palm, “I can’t have ice cream anymore.” Then he wrapped his hand around Cas’ cock, and swirled his tongue around the tip.

“ _ Dean _ ,” Cas groaned, hand tightening in his hair.

Dean looked at him, smirking before he sucked the tip into his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and such.


End file.
